


Safety

by ImogenSmiley



Category: Death Note (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Discrepancies for DRAMA, Court and Police Proceedings, F/F, Fuck Light Yagami, Fuck the police that didn't help her i swear-, I really loved the character design of Rem in the musical, Inside Misa's Head, Light's a BITCH, Mild Canon Discrepancies, Misa getting the POV she deserved, Misa really was too smart for her own good, Misa's Trauma, Misa-Centric, Mostly Canon Compliant, Musical Rem, Relationship Study, Rem looks like that for the aesthetic lmao, Rem's Death, Trauma, in your head, misa's pov, third person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-16
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImogenSmiley/pseuds/ImogenSmiley
Summary: When her memories were consigned to oblivion, Misa dreamed of a woman with white skin and fair grey hair, with blue and purple ends. This woman had high cheekbones and thin lips, a startling blue. Like she had suffocated. Her eyes were dark, framed with heavy eyeliner and mascara. She wore a white dress with lots of lace petticoats. But her face was cold, hard, and yet solemn. She would reach for her, the white gossamer dress that fanned around her swishing as the woman would reach for her in the darkness, her name barely escaping from her lips before darkness would snatch her away.“Misa,” she’d whisper.
Relationships: Amane Misa/Rem
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Safety

When her memories were consigned to oblivion, Misa dreamed of a woman with white skin and fair grey hair, with blue and purple ends. This woman had high cheekbones and thin lips, a startling blue. Like she had suffocated. Her eyes were dark, framed with heavy eyeliner and mascara. She wore a white dress with lots of lace petticoats. But her face was cold, hard, and yet solemn. She would reach for her, the white gossamer dress that fanned around her swishing as the woman would reach for her in the darkness, her name barely escaping from her lips before darkness would snatch her away.

“ _Misa_ ,” she’d whisper. 

She had dreamed of her every night, clinging to the bedsheets that swallowed her frame, reaching for a figure that wasn’t there. Why wasn’t he there? Why wouldn’t he hold her?

When she was a child, Misa remembered her parents always embracing one another if they had had nightmares, or disturbed sleep. And when she had bad dreams, they would hold her in their arms, surround her in their embrace, and their breathing would lull her to sleep. Nobody could hurt her as long as they were there.

But then they died. And she was alone, watching their blood crawl along the floor toward her, like a reaching arm, wanting to keep her warm and safe one last time. She would never forget how her little white dolly socks was stained pink with the blood of her parents, and how, by the grace of God, that man that broke into her home and killed them, didn’t see her hiding under the kotatsu.

She wasn’t safe anymore.

And every night for months afterward, she would dream of the faces of her parents, contorted into their screams. Petrified open mouths begged her to hide. Before their murder, she had only ever imagined loan sharks to look like hammerheads in golden chains from cartoons, instead of men in clean cut, sharp suits, that refused to remove their shoes. They looked like businessmen, and she noticed, even when the man that shot them, sat in court, he wore black. Black shirt, black jacket, and trousers. Perhaps it was to hide the bloodiness of his trade.

When her memories were consigned to oblivion, strapped to a metal probe, bound in a straight-jacket and blinded by an iron mask, that face never escaped her. Dreams that used to be her parents faces, contorted in rigamortis, that spoke wise words, had ceased. Instead there was her, the pale faced woman in the floaty, almost Grecian gown. It hung from her wide shoulders, draping over the minimal curves of her body, dress pooling at her feet like a puddle.

“ _Misa_.”

She only recognised the woman when she was blessed by her memories amidst her plan to catch Kira, where that woman appeared behind her in the mirror of the Yotsuba women’s restroom.

Those hazy months, which she could seldom recall, flooded through her, and the woman in front of her had to stifle her screams. Misa’s hands were bloody; she had become judge, jury and executioner. She was Kira, and Light, he was Kira. They had paved the way to the new world together.

She had done it for her parents. She had forgotten her anger. That Kira had executed the loan shark himself, and she had only been blessed by the power to kill too late. She wished he could have died at her hand.

She remembered the nights when her dreams were neither of the ghostly woman, or her parents. But of him, of his eyes. His condescending smirk, and how he’d looked down on her in court when she’d told the judge and jury that he had killed her parents.

“How _could_ you know if you were _under the kotatsu_?”

“How did _you_ know I was under the kotatsu?”

But even as she realised he left her alive, knowing that she was there, the jury still declared him innocent. She had to watch him sneer at her from across the room.

She wanted to do the same.

Kira had snatched that vengeance from her, and she’d flocked to his side.

As Misa’s eyes met the woman’s, the woman she had dreamed of all this time, she remembered.

She was going to kill him. She was safe at his side, and at the fact that few knew her given name, because she eternally went by its shortened form. Even her family never called her Misaki, unless she was in trouble. Light couldn’t kill her, even if he remembered, because she was, legally, Misaki Amane. She was safe, but she knew him.

“ _Misa_ ,” the woman spoke, her voice escaping thin, blue lips like velvet, each syllable that rolled from her mouth surrounded her like an embrace. She hadn’t felt safer. Not for a long time.

“ _Rem_ ,” she breathed, a smile crawling across her features, “Oh Rem, I’ve missed you!”

Rem had smiled in return, raising her arms and allowing the blonde girl to barell into them. She held her close and smoothed her hair, the faintest colour pooling in her cheeks. She had missed Misa, too.

“Misa, what are you doing here, this is dangerous.”

“I’m going to catch Kira,” she replied quietly, “I’m going to let whatever dominoes Light set, fall, so _I_ can kill him.”

“Misa, I want to help you. Let me. Take this piece of paper with you. It’s from my Death Note, hide it, in your sock or your bra. As long as you’re touching it, you’ll remember.”

Misa nodded. She didn’t want to forget again. The memories that had flooded her senses, of this woman in the white gossamer gown were beautiful, and tender. All of the devotion she had felt toward Light felt like ash on her tongue. No, she didn’t love him, it was her, this phantom, the Shinigami. She had fallen in love with Rem.

But, a Shinigami could be killed by loving a human. Did Rem return her feelings? She didn’t want to lose her again. They had to kill Kira. They had to kill Light, make it look like an accident.

Her attention was quickly directed back to Rem, as she was given instructions, how to make it through the day, how she’d be able to execute her plan, and have Higuchi condemned as Kira. If Light’s plan would come to fruition as he planned, there would be a brief instance where he could be killed. Misa would have to act then. Kill him before he could reclaim ownership of his Death Note. Light was, to his detriment, dangerously smart. He would have anticipated his own actions, and made sure his oblivious self would be complicit in whatever plan he was to conjure. He would have predicted a means to reclaim ownership. Which meant that Misa would have to be quicker.

A week had passed since her memories were given back, and she couldn’t stop daydreaming, rejoicing at the return of her memories with Rem. How the two had spent months together, enjoying each other’s company, establishing an alliance. It was only supposed to be an alliance.

But both had fallen prey to the other’s charms. Misa had fallen head over heels in love with a Shinigami. She had never anticipated it, this reserved and solemn ghostly apparition wasn’t the best conversationalist, but yet, there she was, enjoying every moment the two had on their own. Misa knew that others may be able to see Rem, and so, she loved when they could be alone together, sat on Misa’s four-poster-bed, watch movies together and talk.

Misa doubted that Rem actually liked the movies that they watched, or the music they would listen to, but she wasn’t exactly the sort of woman, if you could call her that, that would get up and dance around the room.

It didn’t matter though, nor did it matter that Misa could never hold Rem’s hand in public, and that she always had to talk to her in public, with a phone to her ear. It didn’t matter that they couldn’t be together like she could be with other girls, she was in love with her, with Rem.

She did show tenderness, perhaps not often, but it didn’t matter. On the eve that that loan shark’s death was announced, Rem had cradled Misa in her arms, while she howled, weeping over her revenge, her justice, being snatched from her, like a rug being torn from beneath her feet.

And Rem was willing to let Misa play whatever parts she needed to, when orchestrating her scheme to get revenge for the victims being deprived of their own justice. Kira wasn’t justice, revenge wasn’t justice, but Misa had yearned to watch the loan shark’s eyes lose their light at her own hands. And even if that meant playing pretend, she would do it. Rem knew where her allegiance lied.

On the Friday night, just seven days after she and her beloved Rem had been reunited, Light had summoned her. Hammering on her door, he demanded Misa help search for the Shinigami that had murdered Ryuzaki.

His and Watari’s bodies were still warm, lying rigid with pain painted on their faces. This was clearly not Light’s doing, he didn’t know their names, just as he didn’t know Misa’s true name. Which means it was her, it was her beloved Rem. She had committed this murder, and changed the plan, but why? What did this mean?

Misa didn’t hesitate in helping Light, she wasn’t suspicious in the eyes of the Task Force, or Light, so was free to roam and do her best to help, she knew that it was a race, a race to reclaim ownership of a Death Note. And Misa was desperate, as long as she didn’t own a notebook, she was vulnerable. As reluctant as Light was to make the Shinigami Eye Deal, she couldn’t put it past him to consider to be rid of her.

Rushing through the narrow corridors, lights still flickering in the tumultuous rain, she finally stumbled upon a pile of ash in the doorway to Watari’s office.

Which meant that this – this ash on the ground was all that was left of her.

Misa’s lip trembled, knees buckling under her and dropped to her knees. She cried, bleary eyes scanning the space. Where was Rem’s Death Note? Where had it gone? She picked up the ash, letting it fall from between her fingers. There was nothing. Someone had taken it. He had taken it. She was left at his mercy once more. He owned a Death Note, he was untouchable once again.

Misa sniffled, getting to her feet and rushing back to her apartment on the top floor of the building, grabbing an old tarnished necklace from her overflowing jewellery box, filled with crimson glitter, and poured the contents into the bin, and without hesitating, returned to that hallway, picking up as much of the ash as she could and thumbing it inside. She would take her with her. She wouldn’t forget her. Rem.

If Rem had died, that meant, she had acted like Gelus and save her life. Rem had never voiced her affections, but this sacrificial act was proof enough, that she had reciprocated her feelings. Rem had loved her too.

Why had she killed Ryuzaki? Why had she killed Watari? What did they learn, could they prove her guilty of her crimes? She’d killed them, for her, to save her life.

So, that meant that this life, was Rem’s. She had been blessed with longevity, with life once more. And this borrowed time, was a parting gift of her lover. Rem promised she would help Misa despite the dangers. She would have to kill him.

She would have to find a way to kill Light Yagami, and avenge her love, her real love.


End file.
